I Was Blind Before I Met You: Chapter 3
by Aiden Crane
Summary: Shilo arrives at the opera house. She finds Mag in a fugue state in her dressing room, but the mood quickly changes. Shilo and Mag bond over a game of the senses...


_Maybe I came at a good time..._

Shilo thought to herself as she stepped through the front door of the Genetic Opera house. The building was buzzing with stage hands and ushers and all manner of production coordinators who were too busy preparing for the show to notice the small teen slip in. Of course, Shilo was utterly lost, having never been in the theatre, and otherwise having never seen a place so opulently colossal. But she was on a mission, and there was no time to waste. Soon enough she found herself drifting towards a very unassuming door that almost blended into the wall. It was unmarked, but when Shilo tried the handle, the door gave way easily.

 _Just pretend that you belong here...Just be cool,_ she reminded herself, stepping into the dark corridor. It looked to Shilo as if the very walls of the long hallway were painted black. She looked down the hall as vast space was interrupted by intermittent bulbs of florescent lights. The cold lights appeared even more garish and stark as they illuminated the clamoring performers and stage hands running about the hall. The young woman began to walk down the hallway and was so distracted by the noise that she almost forgot to look at the gold name plates on the row of doors. Shilo began to feel eyes on her. She didn't feel " _cool_ " at all. She felt herself nervously quicken her pace; the sensation was grimy and heavy on her back, and she could not help but glance over her shoulder as she walked. But, when the patches of people looked away, found their respective rooms and disappeared from her view, she burst into a sprint down the hallway, reluctant to slow. As she tore a path deeper into the belly of the theatre, she was relieved to find it less occupied, but still had not seen a door with Blind Mag's name on it!

 _Where is she?! What if I'm not even close—What if this is the wrong corridor?! Oh no..._

The end of the black hallway began forming in her eyes. A hard, dark stop in her view.

 _Oh no..._

Shilo could feel the beginnings of a freezing sweat, for the end of the line was too shadowed to make out the black and gold placard.

 _Please be there. Please be there. Please be there..._

She half expected her medicine alarm to start chirping from her exertion, but puffed heavily and slow in relief when the last door came into focus. _**Blind Mag**_ **.** The black enamel lettering was a bold script, unlike the regular print on the doors Shilo left in her wake. The door itself looked solid and tightly bound in its frame. She couldn't see even a scrap of light coming through the seams, and somehow that made Shilo feel uneasy. Still mostly out of breath, she paused and took a few deep breaths to compose herself before knocking. She rapped with her knuckles, more timid at first than she would have liked. When no answer came, Shilo was pleased to try again—this time a little louder. But still, no answer.

"Mag...?" Shilo called through the door politely. Her voice sounded a raspy, her throat dry.

 _Maybe I should peek in. Did I miss her? She might not be there after all...but I don't want to be_

 _rude if she_ is _in there—I don't know. Fuck it..._

 __Shilo finally decided and turned the brass handle. The door squeaked open heavily, and the dressing room was darker than the hall for sure, save one dimly burning lamp sitting on a table at the far side. Shilo felt the room consume her as she closed the door behind her. The lamplight cast a faint orange glow on the table, and Shilo wished it had been closer. The floor below her looked like a bottomless abyss as she gingerly stepped through the room. Only a few objects glinted in her adjusting eyes as she passed them: a metal clothes rack filled with costumes, a porcelain wash basin, a vanity with a tall mirror above it. They looked out of place—suspended in mid air. Shilo began to feel apprehensive as she came upon the lamp. She hadn't before noticed the high backed sofa or the vague black outline of a figure curled up like a lifeless corpse.

"Mag...?" she beckoned again, now quieter and unevenly. Shilo quickly turned the metal knob on the lamp and the wick lifted high and confidently white. The hot gleam illuminated a black dress, a black hood, and dark, shiny tresses that flowed out and rested on the bodice of the figure. Shilo exhaled audibly, as if she had been holding her breath. With most of her unease alleviated by the light, Shilo could fully recognize it as the same dress she had seen Mag wearing earlier that evening. The young woman's thoughts quickened at the sight of her godmother's limp form.

 _She was just sitting here alone in the dark...? But why hasn't she tried to escape? And why can't she hear me?!_

"Mag? Mag, you have to get up—you have to get out of here! Mag, please!" Shilo pleaded, her

voice was bold now and cut through the room with a shock. Shilo watched eagerly as Mag raised her head from the velvet couch and one of her pale, slender hands glided from it's hiding place to take down the hood.

Mag had heard Shilo loud and clear, but the older woman was convinced that she was merely imagining Shilo there with her...Until the lamplight brightened.

 _Is it really...?_ The diva pulled back her hood to turn her damp face towards the light. At first, Mag was confused at the sight of the young woman's wide eyes and entreating stare.

 _She almost looks frightened...or shocked...but she cannot be—how...This can't be possible._ Mag was never sure if she believed in magic or prayer, but Shilo's perfectly timed appearance in her dressing room was unfathomable. Supernatural or serendipitous, it didn't matter to her.

 _It's like she heard me calling for her..._ Mag sat up a little straighter in her seat to look at Shilo more clearly, and squinted at the girl now kneeling beside her. Mag blinked a few times as her synthetic eyes adjusted to the light, and her pupils contracted into tiny points that held the reflection of Shilo's worried face. Mag dared not speak, for fear that her voice would break the mirage that was surely the form kneeling before her. Instead, she reached a hand out to touch Shilo's cheek. To her happy surprise, she found it solid, and tears sprung hot to Mag's red-rimmed, grey-blue eyes.

"It's only me. Mag, you're crying...?" Shilo **was** shocked to see the ever composed Blind Mag so uncharacteristically distraught. More than that, Shilo was surprised to see that Mag **could** cry after her eye surgery. ( _What part of the eye is the cornea, anyway,_ Shilo had wondered years ago, after reading a magazine article about the singer's GeneCo enhancement.)

"What a cruel joke it would be if I couldn't..." Mag smiled vaguely at the girl. Blind Mag's mood was already beginning to shift. She touched Shilo's shoulder and stroked her upper arm to be completely certain that the girl was fully formed in reality.

"I'm so happy you came, Shilo. And it is so good to see you. Truly." Mag spoke softly.

"I'm sorry for just coming in like that—I knocked! But I guess you couldn't hear me, and I needed to find you, Mag!—you need to leave, and I—" Shilo felt her white cheeks color as she stumbled over her reply.

"Please don't apologize to me, dear one. I've never been so happy to see you as I am now..." Mag's sweet voice lilted over the air in a familiar way, completely sidestepping Shilo's concerned ramblings. The older woman looked like she had emerged from the dark well of her inner dialogue and was more present than she had been minutes before, but Shilo was still perturbed by the glint of wetness in Mag's eyes. Her tears had left a hinting trail of eyeliner on her high cheekbones and pooled in the soft ridges of her lips. There was no doubt in Shilo's mind that she would find the flesh and blood Mag beautiful, but seeing Mag's gracefully sculpted features up close was unnerving. If Shilo had possessed the language to describe Mag, she would have said that the diva looked like an otherworldly goddess. Shilo had always thought that the singer was enigmatic and peculiar—sharp and almost aloof in her high status...But now, Shilo had the chance to see the eyeliner veins on Mag's face and her mechanical eyes grow still and gentle. Mag looked so human and soft—susceptible and sensitive.

Shilo was rendered speechless, and began to realize that she hadn't replied to Mag in...how long? The distracted teen wasn't sure. But she wanted to say something—anything! Shilo wanted to let her godmother know that she didn't have to cry anymore. To let Mag know that she wanted to help—would do anything to help. Shilo couldn't think of anything to say. The words didn't seem good enough. Instead, Shilo leaned in close to Mag and wiped away the black railroad tracks with the pad of her thumb. Shilo bit her lip; Mag smelled like roses.

"Mag, please don't cry..." Shilo's purpose for coming almost slipped her mind again, but she picked her words slowly.

"Get what you need from here. You...I'll call someone—a cab. Then you can go home and pack a bag...He's coming tonight, isn't he? The RepoMan—" but Mag cut her off in the nicest way possible.

"Not home...It's a gilded cage for GeneCo's songbird. You may know what's happening, but you don't know Rotti as I do—for which I am glad, but Shilo...He won't let me leave. I'm an expensive piece of GeneCo merchandise, and he can't simply allow me to walk away. My contract was signed in blood. The only way for me to be liberated..." The diva's voice was even and calm, and for Shilo's peace of mind, she did not continue describing what lengths both she and Rotti would reach to preserve themselves. Shilo sensed that Mag was hiding something from her, and the girl screwed up her eyes trying to see past the veil.

"Don't talk like that! You're not just merchandise!" Shilo climbed onto the couch beside Mag.

"There must be something you can do—you have to do something, because I can't stand the thought of..." Her voice began to rise, and angry blood beat in Shilo's chest. She felt something animal and primal begin to pace in the confines of her delicate skin.

"Shilo, I can see that you're angry. I understand. But you know what it's like to feel like a captive...Your father—well, he was wrong to keep you locked up like he has, but you really are dear to him. He's desperate to preserve the unblemished part your mother that lives in you. And look at you..." Mag took the younger woman's hands in her own.

"You're so grown up and ready to fly. You're old enough now to make your own choices and be your own saviour. It's up to you. Not Nathan, not even me. My life is sealed, but yours does not have to be, dear Shilo..." Mag squeezed her hands reassuringly, and a bittersweet smile spread over the singer's painted lips.

 _She's so serene...How can she be like this when she knows her eyes are going to be repossessed tonight? That RepoMan could kill her! Big, stupid brute...I don't want to be without you._

Shilo remained silent, though her mind was busy trying to put all the pieces together.

 _How can you be so serene...?_

"Shilo, seeing you will give me the strength I need for tonight. I have to perform and I cannot leave before I've endured what I must." Mag added, matter-of-factually.

"But why?!" Shilo hated how much she sounded like a child as she cried out, and she hated how Mag's expression looked so resolute. The young woman knew immediately, when Mag was silent, that the diva's resolve could not be shaken.

 _Your mother was the one who gave me courage to trust Rotti and go through with the surgery. And you will be the one who will give me the courage to leave him. Indefinitely. I know that I'll be dead by morning. I just wish I had more time to...I hate that I can't be in your life, Shilo._

 __"I never got the chance to be...anything in your life," Mag swallowed. "And I wanted to show

you so many things. Beautiful things." Mag withdrew her hands from Shilo's steady grasp and looked away from the younger woman. Shilo felt a pang of sadness and looked down at the spot on the floor that Mag was staring at—the narrow trench between the table and the couch looked deep and endless. Shilo tried to bury her pain in that grave before replying.

"What things...?" She wanted to relieve her godmother of her burden. She wanted to enjoy what little time she had with her shining idol who had now become her brave hero.

"Would you like me to show you?" Mag's face turned back to the younger and the light in her eyes visibly brightened.

"What—now?" Shilo raised her brows and Mag smiled. "Show me...?"

"How to see in the dark," the older brunette whispered mock-mysteriously with almost a playful expression crossing her features. Mag's smile was contagious and Shilo could not help but let out an embarrassed chuckle. The younger woman nodded, the excitement of anticipation building in her.

"Okay. Well, I guess this place is as good as any to learn." Shilo glanced around the heavily shadowed room. "Are we gonna play hide and seek or something?" the girl teased. Mag chuckled. The diva stood and deftly walked over to her wardrobe rack. Shilo stood cautiously, unsure if Mag meant her to follow suit.

"Close your eyes, Shilo." Little metal squeaks followed Mag's nimble fingers as they moved through the hangers. The diva pulled out a long, black silk scarf.

"Uhh...Okay." Shilo arched a brow when she saw what Mag had retrieved.

"Don't be scared, silly girl. Just close your eyes and relax." So, Shilo did as she was told. She listened as Mag's skirts rustled closer, her soft steps barely audible. She felt the smooth material come down over her forehead and eyes; she felt Mag's hands working a knot behind her head. Shilo stiffened slightly when she felt Mag move her hair behind her shoulders and diva's breath barely touched her neck. She hoped that Mag didn't notice. Mag used the thick hem of her gown to cover her fingertips as she removed the hot glass flume that covered the oil lamp that sat on the table. Then she went back to Shilo and stood behind her with one hand on the younger woman's shoulder.

"Take one step forward, Shilo," Mag instructed. Still wondering what Mag was trying to show her, she did as she was told, but her mind screeched to a halt when she felt the diva's fingers and palm slide down her shoulder and the length of her arm to hold her wrist. Mag's fingers were slightly chill and gooseflesh appeared on Shilo's arms. The older woman gently guided Shilo's arm to the lamp until the her small fingers began to extend towards the warmth of the flame. Shilo's hand twitched when the nerves in her hand hit the wall of heat.

"Tell me what you feel...Tell me what it is." Mag let go of the other, leaving Shilo completely alone in her senses. Shilo didn't understand.

"It's fire...I don't know, it's hot." The younger woman's voice came out slightly more bratty than she had expected.

"Don't be petulant, Shilo..." A smile could be heard in Mag's voice. "Things are always more than they appear. Your coming helped me remember...When life is dark and confusing, our sight can be misleading. Feel the flame with all of your senses. Sense it with your entire body." Mag's low, soothing voice began to lull Shilo's thoughts to sleep, and she slowly took another step forward to feel the flame.

" I feel tingling. I can feel it breathing and rippling. It's strong," Shilo finally decided. Mag took up the cup of cooled tea and poured in a little more hot water from the carafe. She sipped it a few times to be sure the liquid wouldn't scald Shilo's tongue.

"Very good. Now. Hold out your hands, palms up." Mag placed the hand painted teacup in Shilo's hand and held onto the little looped handle until Shilo recognized its shape and held it stable. "It won't burn you, I promise," Mag prompted the other to sip from the cup. Shilo had no muscle memory for this gesture and clumsily spilled some of the tea which thudded on the carpet. Mag's mouth turned upward as she tried to withhold a chuckle. "Here, let me help you." Shilo felt Mag's hands cupping hers and relaxed as the older woman guided the brim of the ceramic cup to her lips.

"Oh! It tastes weird..." Mag laughed a full laugh this time. "Sorry...What is it?" Shilo asked.

"It's called Damiana leaf. It's an herb that still grows south of here. I have it imported. Its properties and taste are quite potent, yes...I don't drink it every day. Perhaps it'll be easier to describe having never tried it before...Will you describe it to me?" Shilo **had** assumed that Mag was cultured and had good taste, and her own captivity made her feel so naïve. She took a few more large sips of the tea, having forgotten that she had run a small marathon when she arrived at the theatre. The warm water and honey felt good in her throat, and the taste became much more palatable—even enjoyable.

"It tastes bitter, but kind of...minty? And sweet too. I don't know what this means really, but it tastes green." She emptied the cup of liquid and licked her lips. "It's sharp, but smooth too—and whoa!" The herb was beginning to affect her. Shilo felt her blood flowing pleasurably and a feathery feeling around her skull. She began to feel warm and swooned, but Mag was still a mere foot in front of the girl and braced her. Mag helped Shilo to take a step back until the young woman felt the couch touch her calves and it welcomed her to sit. "That grows in the ground?!" She asked Mag incredulously amused. "That has to be better for you than Zydrate." the younger woman chuckled, leaning her head back against the cushions with her lips parted blissfully.

"I would say so, my dear. Very astute observation. And don't worry, the effects will become less intense in a few minutes..." Mag didn't need to ask Shilo how the tea made her feel. Seeing the lower half of the young woman's face and her posture, Mag knew. The diva's mirror neurons were firing at rapid speed, and she began to feel as if **she** were the one who downed the cup. She felt heat rising in her belly and light caresses on her head and neck. Euphoria. Mag cleared her throat in a light, ladylike way... "Alright, Shilo...One more. You can stay sitting on the sofa. I'm going to sing something for you, and you can tell me what it sounds like—how it feels to you," Mag explained. Shilo straightened her reclining head and sat up straight with the soles of her boots fully connected to the carpet. "Are you ready?" Mag took a few steps away from the sofa to give her powerful voice some space to travel and reverberate. Shilo nodded in reply, not wanting to miss a single note. She could hear the singer inhale, slow and full...

Lascia...ch'io pianga

Mia crude...sorte,

E che...sospiri

La liberta.

Il duolo infranga

Queste ritorte,

De' miei martiri

Sol per pieta...

If Shilo had thought that Mag's voice was wonderful coming through the television or headphones, it would pale in comparison to the way she heard Mag's voice in those moments—not only the sound of it live, but trembling under her skin from an intimate few feet away. Shilo breathed heavily into the back of her hand, overwhelmed with vibration and emotion. She swooned again in rapture, but not because of the tea.

"Mag...that was...amazing. I'm trying to find the words...Slow. Comforting? Gentle, but sad. Wanting—longing. And shimmering. That thing you do with your voice, what is it called?" Shilo gathered the multitude of feelings as if they were wildflowers. And somehow, Mag knew what she was asking.

"It's called vibrato..." Mag offered.

"Vibrato," Shilo repeated. "And the song...sounds familiar to me. I've never heard you perform it for GeneCo before, but..."

"It's a song I learned a long time ago before I signed my contract. Actually, I haven't sung that song to anyone but myself in many years. I used to sing it to you, Shilo...when you were in your mother's womb. Marni liked it too, but she said that you would kick when I sang that particular song." Shilo gave a little gasp of surprise, and her heart leaped in her chest. Mag's voice sounded strained, and Shilo felt a tight band around her throat as she listened.

"And so, here we are again, my dear. Fate has brought us back together, regardless of distance and time. And though I wish we had been reunited under different circumstances, I am loathe to suggest it should happen any other way." The diva tried to collect her falling pieces, but they skittered away from her too quickly—like falling stars. Her breath caught in her throat and her words sounded airy and faded. "And it is beautiful...that destiny could be more powerful than genetics."

"Mag...?" Shilo pulled firmly at the knotted scarf, and its arms fell into her hands.


End file.
